


Mini Fics (Contains spoilers for ACOSF)

by VidalinaV



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, These are not all nice lol, don't be critical, they were to vent my frustrations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29354679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VidalinaV/pseuds/VidalinaV
Summary: Otherwise these are just RANDOM one-shots of scenes that I needed to write for my own personal reasons (ie I was mad at the beginning of ACOSF). You'll understand if you have read those scenes. So, enter at your own risk.
Relationships: Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Quite honestly, these were to vent my anger at the first couple of chapters. I have no bad feelings about this book, so don't get me wrong (absolutely excited for it), but oh my god was my blood boiling. This was like my therapy. 
> 
> 1\. Letting Things Get Too Far  
> Summary: Nesta gets threatening (some time after she’s “healed”)

Nesta could tell they were watching her. She supposed it must have seemed off to them that she was sitting in the dining room, reading a newspaper, a toast with jam and cup of tea to the side of her. Too casual, they must have thought. So very much _unlike_ the Nesta they knew.

But one by one they sat—to the side of her of course since she’d chosen the head of the table. Nesta knew of only one other person who would dare sit across from her. She smirked behind the letters, the paper smelling of ink.

First Elain, sweet Elain with her soft, cautious good morning.

Then Feyre with her ruffled hair, matted and imperfect. Nothing like the High Lady she was supposed to be. _How embarrassing_ , she thought, that Feyre had not yet learned that queens were to be perfect in every instance. Every circumstance.

Mor yawned loudly, stretching her arms above her head. The billowy blonde looked to Feyre as Nesta sipped a bit of tea. _Green with a slice of lemon._

Amren was shushed as she came barreling in. Loudly and grumpy. Tired, perhaps, from her days going over the law books of Velaris code.

Rhysand kissed the apple of Feyre’s cheek, her little sister’s skin turning red. A honeyed gesture that made the rest gag mockingly for the way Rhys then bit down on the soft flesh and playfully pulled. He indeed sat where she thought he was going to—the only seat left closest to Feyre. His brows furrowed when he noticed her across from him, but Nesta didn’t give him the light of day.

The game had not begun.

Nesta waited for the missing player, ruffling the newspaper, the sound harsh in this room where all remained quiet. As if they were waiting for something.

Waiting for someone.

Azriel walked in, sitting to the side of her. He peered up at her. Wary and assessing. _What are you up to?_

She blinked at him surprised, not at all expecting that he’d be here for this—that he’d come down from the House of Wind to grace them with his presence. _No matter_. This talk wasn’t particularly for him, but she supposed he’d learn something too. As they all could.

The last one of them arrived with a flourish down the stairs. Bright and loud, stomping on the wood as if soldiers had been set loose in this house and not merely one male who made her smile sweetly despite herself.

He kissed her on the lips, a small peck. Something new for the others to witness. They looked at each other, mirth in their eyes— _shock_. But not from her happiness, Nesta thought, from their triumph. This broken girl who’d been mended when her heart was full.

“Sit down,” Nesta commanded softly, pointing her chin to the seat beside her—across from Azriel. She watched him look towards his brother, but Azriel merely shrugged.

“You waited for me?” Cassian laughed, the sound off even to her. His eyes squinting with concern… or was that vigilance she saw?

Oh, how dangerous he must know her to be to look at her like that.

Nesta smiled, her eyes softening. “I’d always for wait for you.”

Cassian lips set into a fine line at the sickly-sweet tone.

“In fact, I couldn’t have done this without you,” she gestured to the room, shrugging at the last moment. A strained laugh on her voice, “Or so they’ll say.”

Nesta set her newspaper down. The paper rumbling. Distantly she could hear the yells of soldiers, the clash of swords calling to her in her memory.

But none of that noise was here. No one said a gods-damned thing.

She sighed, sitting back in her chair, surveying them all. She could scent their fear, but Nesta didn’t know who it was coming from as she looked to food in the center. Vibrant jellies, eggs, and bacon. Much more food than any she’d consumed in her months away. She’d been reduced to plain porridge.

“Just say what you need to say, girl,” Amren said, gripping the table with her hands. Small and powerless.

_Not as powerful as her anyway._

“You’re right of course, _dear friend._ I should get on with it as any other.”

Nesta lilted her head in a nod. “Consider this meeting long overdue. It was my fault really, for having been in such a low place. I suppose being constantly faced with death and brutality is a regular occurrence to the fae.”

She shrugged a nonchalant shoulder, huffing a laugh as Cassian’s gaze went to the skin of her collarbone from where her robe had slipped off from her shoulder. “Or so I’ve been endearingly reminded of for the past four months… It was my bad of course _for letting things get too far._ ”

Nesta leaned forward, laying her head delicately on her hand. “Isn’t that what you said Feyre? I want to get the _exact_ words right.”

But Feyre didn’t speak only stared at her with those blue eyes so much like hers but so different. They were made from different parts she supposed—different parts of their mother. Feyre got the stomach, and Nesta got her cold, melodic heart.

_Queen indeed._

“ _Letting things get too far?”_ Nesta laughed, the sound loud even to her own ears. “Yes, I suppose that was true… But you know, this amazing thing happened when I was forced to follow this routine of yours. Have breakfast. Train. Have lunch. _Work at the library_. Have breakfast. Train. Have lunch. _Work at the library_. Over and over until I thought the monotony might kill me itself.”

Nesta smiled brightly to all of them, her eyes rolling over their gazes. Elain didn’t dare look at her. Nesta was not in the mood to comfort. What were older sisters for but to lead by example?

“If the magic and the trauma didn’t do it first,” she added.

She lowered her voice as if she were about to tell a story, engaging her audience until all they could do was listen.

“And then—like a _miracle_ —Cassian was called to Vallahan and _I_ went with him. _Screw the rules,_ he said…” Nesta patted him in the shoulder. A good little soldier. “So easy for you to say that when the rules were not made for you.”

“You know what I discovered?” She sang.

Nesta waited for an answer, but no one would meet her gaze.

She looked to the one who knew so much about the outside world. The one who could never leave the one inside her head. “What did I discover Mor?”

Mor took a sip of her mimosa, cringing as she swallowed. “People fear you.”

“People _fear_ me,” Nesta said, proudly.

She laughed, shaking her head at these beings in pajamas who thought so highly of themselves.

She lifted a shoulder, “for good reason of course. I certainly convinced the council of Vallahan. I always knew I had this power, but to wield it—to not let it control me but _to be controlled_ —Glorious.”

“And you know what I learned in those two weeks?” Nesta lowered her voice, the words slipping out of her in a sneer. “That I have more power in my little pinky then you have in your entire body. _All of you_.”

She flipped her hair back, where a stray piece had fallen forward, “I got your little treaty signed of course. That was simple. You’d be surprised how easy it is for people to give up their will when they are pissing their pants. But no matter, all’s fair right?”

“Why are you tell us this?” Rhys asked. “What do you want?”

Her eyes went to his, those violent storms of subdued rage.

_Tell me again to sit like a dog_ High Lord _,_ she whispered into his mind. Rhys sat straight up, Feyre grasping his arm.

Nesta simply picked up her newspaper once more. The image in the center showing a great depiction of Velaris’s royal _family_.

“You _ever_ make a decision on my behalf again,” her voice turning to soft silk. As sweet as a poison apple, “I will _burn_ this city to the ground.”

Nesta tilted her head up, noting the marbled leaves engrained in the ceiling. The opulence. The fraudulent comfort of a house too large for two.

“I think I’ll start with this estate.”

She tutted. “Paints are usually flammable, aren’t they Feyre?”

She watched her sister swallow, the light of Rhysand’s eyes dimming to a darkness she thought might engulf them all.

Nesta could smell his fear…

She lifted the cup to her lips, “Understood?”

“Duly noted.”

The rest mumbled their assent.

And Nesta turned to the toast at her side, already spread with apricot jam. She picked up the bread and set it on Cassian’s plate. “I quite like these jams. We should get some before we go.”

“Too much sugar,” he replied slowly, as if he was getting used to the switch from her being threatening to caring. “You eat this, and you’ll be tired within the hour.”

Nesta pouted in response, wrinkling her nose, “You know, you really need to lighten up. Maybe you’ve gotten harsher in your old age.”

Cassian gave her a hard look.

“I mean, you’re in your 500s. You can barely keep up with the times,” She teased. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you couldn’t keep up… in other areas.”

Cassian scoffed, lifting his lips in an outrageous laugh.

“Wait” Feyre called, holding her hands up in surrender. Nesta turned to her, lifting a curious brow. Her little sister blinked back, unsure if Nesta still wanted to destroy their home.

She would never destroy her little sister’s home…

But then Nesta thought of her shabby apartment laying in rubbles, ready to be rebuilt.

_Oh, right._

“Will you continue to be our emissary?”

That was a question Nesta was not expecting…

“Oh, I don’t know,” She flourished. “I suppose we’ll see how it goes.”

She shrugged dramatically, “You follow these rules… and after a couple of months, I’ll _re-assess_ your behavior. We can revisit me working with you all after some time has passed.”

“I don’t see how you’re allowed to do whatever you please, just by being threatening,” Amren noted.

Nesta smiled at the hypocrisy.

“Subsection B, Line 84 says I can,” Nesta sang, “As long as were making up rules.”


	2. Because You’re an Asshole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Nesta rejects Cassian in front of the Inner Circle (Takes place in my head a couple of months after first 6 chapters)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, Cassian needs to drink some respect Nesta Archeron juice (as they all do). I hope to god he gains some perspective in this book, and he doesn’t continue this stupidity of reducing Nesta to butchery status. (Raises glass) Here’s hoping this lug nut starts making an effort. But this fic is purely self-indulgent because well… I’m the fic writer. So I can do what I want.

Nesta wouldn’t say she had changed much, but to her sister and their group of friends she’d say she might as well have been a different person. For they pretended not to stare as she arrived with Cassian in tow. Some extraterrestrial creature in the middle of a restaurant.

She greeted the owner, Sevenda, lifting her lips into a polite smile and nodding when she caught Nesta’s gaze.

“Hello, sweet girl,” The female gushed, “I didn’t think you were helping out today… please don’t tell me one of the others conned you into taking their shift.”

Nesta shook her head shyly as Cassian told the female they were meeting the rest of them for a late dinner. Sevenda kissed him on the cheek, and Nesta wondered how one person could show so much affection when she could barely muster a proper laugh.

Truthfully, the only reason she made it to this dinner at all was because Bryaxis had asked her to. He’d been in the middle of telling her how the stars moved on an axis, and how the shadows were often wandering souls. He had so many stories to tell in that dark place in the library, but he’d wanted stories too. He was persistent, pushy…persuasive and Nesta could not let down her new friend when all he wanted to do was know about the outside world.

Nesta knew enough about being ostracized. She felt for the monster for she was a monster too. Cast away to the darkened ends of the library. 

But, Nesta wanted this night to be over. She’d promised Bryaxis ten minutes and ten minutes only. She could survive that long on fake grins. 

She tried not to sigh audibly as Sevenda showed them to the table, where the others already sat. Laughing loudly… then quieting to silence as they neared.

Nesta should have felt offended. But she couldn’t find it in herself to care too much.

The night would be over soon enough anyways.

True, Amren had visited her in the library just last week and they’d been cordial. She saw Mor on a regular basis to winnow to Windhaven, and Azriel was always there. It seemed odd to her now that they stared as if she were someone new. Someone they didn’t know at all.

Perhaps, though, it was because she’d agreed to come in the first place and when she did, she’d allowed Cassian to accompany her there. Though she suspected the offer was more because they were all still wary of her change, her calmness.

Nesta wouldn’t have called it that herself.

She hadn’t stopped being angry, she’d been born angry. Raged and kicked her way to this world.

Nesta just merely stopped… fighting back.

There was a peace in that, she supposed. Even if the thought sometimes made her want to hurt something and then herself for letting it happen.

Most of the time she was just detached enough to smile when someone called her name and when they left she’d go back to staring off into space, the dust like hidden galaxies floating through the filtered sunlight. It was what Nesta liked about the library in truth. That most didn’t bother her when she’d looked out the array of windows, up on those tall ladders, ready to see Velaris in a tiny frame.

In this way, the world was a lot smaller than she’d realized.

_Less frightening._

And because the world was less frightening, the people in it, too, were less mean. She’d wandered after her workday, tired, but with a furious curiosity for more, like a hunger she couldn’t satisfy, and she’d ended up here. At Sevenda’s–the female greeting her and offering her a meal, even when Nesta told her she didn’t have the money to pay.

_On the house then,_ the female said.

It was the best meal she’d ever had and Nesta had come back every time she could. Helping with the books, with inventory, while the owner patted her on the shoulder, her cheek, and brought her something new to try. Like a doting grandmother.

It felt odd, she thought seeing the rest in a large booth to the wall. _This place, too, did not belong to her_ …

“No need to order,” the female proclaimed, “I know what you all like.”

Nesta waited for Cassian to scooch into the booth before she sat on the outskirts. Easy access to the door. _Easy to leave._

But the others didn’t bother her much. Distantly, as if Nesta was not in the room, she could hear their voices begin again. _To each other of course._ Never to her. Though she’d accepted it long ago that she would never be what they wanted. They would never be what _she_ needed. 

Cassian laughed. The sound hurting her ears. He never laughed like that with her. Nesta supposed she wasn’t that funny… and she wasn’t really his friend.

Instead, Nesta looked to the restaurant. Alive in all it’s glory. Loud and bright. She looked to the waitstaff. Most of them she’d met already, worked with some of them, and they smiled or waved when they saw her. Nesta lifted her hand to greet them, too.

One of the girls, Amina, brought out waters for the table.

Amina grinned when she saw her there.

But she did not leave when the cups had been set. Instead, she lingered, lowering her voice and leaning towards her. “We’re going to the symphony tomorrow if you want to come.”

“And you must come,” Sevenda said, coming from behind with a plate of appetizers in her hand. Something to tide them over. 

Nesta blinked at the two females, unsure of what to say—what to do.

“I’ve never been to symphony before,” Nesta answered.

Sevenda set the bread in the middle of the table, and then raised a hand to her chest dramatically. “You’ll just adore it. Grand tales, handsome males, intriguing music all around. Perhaps, I’ll gather more of the staff and we’ll make a whole day of it.”

Nesta shook her head, waving her hands slightly. “You’re pretty busy, you don’t have to—”

“Nonsense, sweet girl,” She said, raising a hand to Nesta’s cheek. She could feel the warmth on her face. “ _Nobody_ would be too busy for you.”

Nesta smiled at that, a testament to how much she had changed that she’d allowed the touch and a triumph at how Nesta felt something other than nothing at all.

“I’ll be right back,” Sevenda noted chipperly. “Eat some bread.”

As the female left, Nesta didn’t want to look at the rest of the group, didn’t want to see how they would judge her, didn’t want to see if she cared or not. They’d meant to heal her. Did they think they were successful?

Cassian gazed down at her, his eyes uncommonly fond. All Nesta thought was that she was probably not _embarrassing_ any longer.

She wondered if seeing her tolerated by others made him realize that she was tolerable.

Because, Nesta had not been tolerable to him this morning.

“You know, we can go to the symphony,” Cassian suggested, the apples of his cheeks blooming a dust of red. Nesta’s brows furrowed at the words. Her lips tilting down into an expression that might have been quizzical. “Some time… together I mean.”

Nesta looked at the others, but it seemed they were trying not to snicker, or they were too curious at what she would do. Rhysand tried to hide his smirk, Azriel held onto the bridge of his nose, Mor raised a brow as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing, Amren took a sip of wine, rolling her eyes, and Feyre… well Feyre looked to _her_.

_Say something,_ her eyes seemed to say.

But Nesta went to gaze at the people around her, happy and conversing at their own tables. The noise a rum drum lur of heartbeats and shouts and quiet whispers of some things she’d never be able to listen to even if she tried to read their lips.

_This_ was… life, she thought. A cacophony of angry yells and laughter.

She’d almost forgotten what it sounded like…

But it wasn’t because of him that she could now recognize the notes. A song Nesta desperately wanted to hear. It wasn’t because of them at this table… and Nesta wondered what made Cassian suggest this. _In front of his friends._

Did he think she would not easily reject him?

Didn’t he know she was a private person?

“Cassian, what’s my favorite color?”

He simply blinked, surprised by her words. She waited for his answer, but it never came. 

Nesta continued.

“What’s my favorite drink?” She asked.

Still Cassian said nothing.

“What time do I usually get up in the morning? It’s certainly not the time I’m forced to train with you.”

Cassian didn’t answer and instead of it making her angry, it just made her irrevocably sad.

“How about… my favorite book?”

“You’ve read so many how could you choose,” he said. Nesta huffed a laugh.

She’d read the same book for the past three months because she couldn’t stand to open a new one. There was something about the familiarity that comforted her and the thought of meeting new characters, entering new worlds scared her for reasons she was only beginning to understand. That book had been sitting in the living room every morning. Every night.

Nesta leaned forward, her cheek resting on her palm. The action made her breasts push up in her dress and she noticed the way his eyes lingered on them.

“No?” She asked, somberly, shaking her head. “How about the food I hate. The thing I’m most scared of. Excited about… _Nothing_?”

Nesta waved her hand, her voice growing louder, “I mean I know you know how little I eat, how bad I fight, how much weight I’ve lost. You’re very good about reminding me. But do you know… where I even go in the evenings?”

She looked down wrinkling her nose as she huffed a laugh, “You know I get nightmares every night… you must hear them in that _room above mine_.” She pointed to Azriel. “ _He does._ He asked me about them once. I think I told him some lie or another… but have you _ever_ asked? Have you even asked how I’ve been doing? How I feel? You certainly didn’t ask whether I wanted to train with you but of course that was settled fairly quickly.” 

She took a deep breath, waiting for him to speak but he didn’t. Nesta fiddled with her napkin, unfolding it and then looked to the ceiling. She could see the dust float around the rounded lights.

“You know I hate to do this in front of your friends,” She lifted a hand in their direction, looking to Cassian once more. “I’m sure they have such high opinions of you. Their opinions of me, of course, are already very low. A _bitch_ , I’m assuming is what I’ll be called today. Probably, to make your pride feel a little bit better. A little _less_ wounded… Maybe they’ll believe it themselves too, because well,” Nesta shrugged, “the evidence is already there. It’s the nature of the circumstances I suppose.”

“It’s rather funny I think,” though Nesta didn’t laugh. “You don’t know _anything_ about me. You want to go on a date?”

She lifted her hands up. Innocence personified. “I mean I’m assuming that what’s you meant by us going together to the symphony. We’re clearly not close enough to presume a casual friendly outing and everyone in this room and their mothers know we have some sort of history or they wouldn’t ask about it every time they see me or whisper it when they see us together.”

She smiled, her cheeks straining from the pull. “But for all that history… you know _nothing_ about me. Instead, you have confused your _emotions_ for ‘I’m sure she’s such a good _fuck.’ W_ as it the boobs, the ass? The face maybe? I get that all the time.” Nesta gestured to the room around them, aware that she was making a scene, “Ask anyone of these males who’ve slept with me, I’m sure you’ll find one at any given moment…”

She clasped her hands together, crossing her legs as if she were holding a business meeting. Nesta raised a shoulder. “But at least they didn’t pretend. When they wanted to _sleep with me_ , well… they just said they wanted to sleep with me. Unfortunately, if that’s what you want, you’ll have to buy me a drink first because I’ll have to be much drunker than this.”

Nesta leaned back in her seat. She couldn’t stop fidgeting, like the adrenaline had made her want to fight. She inhaled audibly, a low sound, exhaling lightly.

Cassian looked ashamed.

She tilted her head at that expression, feeling _much_ calmer already.

“ _Look._ As much I hate to admit this, a strict routine has done me some good. Maybe that’s why I can speak these words so truthfully,” Nesta said, her voice casual. “But do not _ever_ think I have forgotten that I am as much a prisoner in my own body that I am in the House of Wind. I have little choice in anything regarding my life, even before this war. But _this_ … I can choose _this_.”

Nesta refused to look at the rest of them as she lifted a hand to her neck, rubbing the muscle, suddenly tired and achy. “Not only have you bombarded my life in ways I didn’t expect nor ask for, you consistently touch me without my permission, get into my space when I am uncomfortable, push me when I am irritated. _Why_ would I want to go out with you—A male who does not respect me?”

“I hope you didn’t think that me healing or whatever you called it,” She gestured away, “meant we’d be together… Time has already changed, unfortunately. Without us knowing it has slipped us by. Drifted right through our fingers…” She took a breath, staring at the lights on the ceiling. “We’re different people now…”

Nesta looked him straight in the eyes. Willed him to listen to her, _really_ listen. “I won’t wait 500 years for you. I want more.” She shrugged, the light of Cassian’s eyes dimming. “I want better.”

She picked up her things, piling the plates and cup on top of each other. Making sure the napkin was neatly folded. Nesta swallowed, the heaviness setting in. She peered up at Cassian, his hair wild, stray pieces falling out from the leather band. His eyes bright and a hollow amber. “I want you to know that it isn’t because you’re a bastard. I’m sure you’ll think that when you go over this conversation later. But I’m _not_ rejecting you because you’re a bastard… It’s because _you’re an asshole.”_

Nesta stood up to leave, but Cassian grabbed her hand. She peered down at him. He’d always been taller than her. It seemed odd to see him so small.

“What about me? You don’t know anything about me either.”

Nesta laughed, a small, short sound. “Your favorite color is red.”

_Mor’s favorite color, too._

“Your favorite food? Stew, because it reminds you of Illyria. You’re scared of thunder, because it makes you think of your wings being shredded, or at least that’s what you told Azriel when you didn’t think I was paying attention. You like to drink whiskey when something bad happens, but rum when you’re celebrating, and you have nightmares too. I suspect they’re probably the same as mine.”

She smiled at him, a melancholic tilt of her lips for those bittersweet memories—for those bittersweet dreams. Cassian looked dejected and she wanted to smooth away the lines with her fingers, but she’d been hurt for far too long from _far_ too many people who’d promised they protect her, so Nesta clenched her fists instead.

“I’m glad we had this chat today.” She looked around the table, grimacing as she tried to smile. The others looked to her as if they were seeing her for the first time. This girl who’d calmy told the commander to go fuck himself. “Please don’t invite me to anymore of these.”

And with that Nesta left, nodding a farewell to Sevenda, coming out with a large tray of food. Two minutes and she was already making her way out the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know these really make me feel better about everything I have to process. But I am so tired, because I can’t sleep waiting for this book. So is this fic good? I don’t know. I can barely read it through. 
> 
> But I keep ranting, like everyday. 
> 
> So, one rant=one mini fic 
> 
> lol so now I have to go write the Nesta sticks up for Cassian fic (which is different than I think you’ll think it is) My work performance is really going to go down this week. But at least this one is uwu status (i.e. fluff–mostly)
> 
> Bye.
> 
> Tumblr: VidalinaV

**Author's Note:**

> I’m laughing as I type this. This book is about to be a cathartic experience. It actually did make me feel better to write this. 
> 
> Peace!
> 
> Tumblr: VidalinaV


End file.
